A Bloodsucking Dracula


Summer used to be my favorite season. Sunshine, going to the beach, and especially enjoying sliced tomatoes and garden vegetables were just a few of the reasons. Now I question my loyalty to that unique time of the year. One little pesky insect has quickly changed my mind. It is the dreaded mosquito.

It is a blood sucking Dracula of the insect world. Plain and simple, I have given more blood to the female mosquito than I have at the blood bank over the years. Remedies, I have tried them all, to no avail. Steady sprays from a powerful aerosol can of raid, hourly lathering down in skin so soft, and buying another zapper for mosquitos at night, which didn’t work.

I’m a front porch sitter, and no matter how early in the morning or late in the evening, those tiny, telepathic scoundrels send out their little ‘zing like’ signal that a meal of warm flesh and blood awaits them, just for the taking. Lately, whether 100 degrees or more, I’m properly dressed to protect myself from the dreaded sting. Long pants with long sleeve shirts make it harder for the mosquitoes to score a hit, and if you forgot your shoes inside, they probably have a perfect path up your pants to other private quarters. Sadly, they are persistent in reaching their mark.

I respect and love all God’s creatures; everything has a purpose. But the mosquito only annoys me, because it steals my blood, causes pain, and gets away with it without detection. The greatest joy in my life is to catch one on my arm or leg, raise my hand with extra gusto, slap and crush that little blood sucker into smithereens, with a smile on my face.


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